


Claustrophobia

by Chummy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Ghostbur, Other, SBI reacts to tommy’s death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chummy/pseuds/Chummy
Summary: It’s his birthday. He doesn’t remember until Techno mentions it, off hand and slightly bored. Phil doesn’t blame him, there’s much more important things happening.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 8
Kudos: 277
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Claustrophobia

**Author's Note:**

> mmmm pain  
> edit: i forgot to mention and i didn’t expect this fic to get like attention, but this is set in my sbi headcanons, which is basically ignoring canon completely and making them a semi functioning family. To get a feel I suggest reading my other sbi fics, u don’t gotta but u know. :P

The floorboards creak under their weight, loud and obvious, as if they were trying to make up for the familiar presence the house now lacked.

He listened to the scraping of a broom, the murmured complaints and starts of conversation, sighs and groans as Techno cleaned the house for the third day in a row. It was spotless now, had been after the first day of deep cleaning, but his sons never could stay still very long. 

They were in Tommy’s house. Having made the long trek from Techno’s to Manburg in record time after they had gotten Sam’s message. 

_ Prison.  _ Stuck inside a cell with Dream was all Phil read before dropping everything. The urgency in the message was palpable, it made Phil’s blood run cold. Techno had everything ready to leave within five minutes. 

The journey was rough, felt longer than what it had been, the same thought of  _ I should've never let him leave _ , circling in both of their heads. They watched the sun fall beneath the clouds and prayed that Tommy would be okay when they got there.

_ Please, just hold on. Please be okay. _

“He’s a tough kid,” he had said to Techno - who had bitten his lips and fingers raw next to him- as a way to placate him. Techno’s shoulders had only dropped, hair pooling in front of his eyes. 

They wore twin dark circles beneath their eyes as Manburg came into view, passing lanterns and sleepy houses, pointedly looking away from the craters and distant smell of gunpowder. 

A scent that seemed to stick no matter how many days passed. 

Tommy’s house was dark, empty, as they passed. They pushed forward to the prison. There were no stars in the sky that night.

The field where the prison lay was filled with lanterns, held gingerly in the hands of Tommy’s many friends. Phil’s heart swelled and constricted at the sight. At how many lives Tommy had managed to touch, to be a part of, to light up, in such a meager fraction of years compared to Phil. His son was truly something special. 

“Phil! You’re here!” Tubbo’s voice, tired and broken with barely contained fear. He isn’t surprised when his arms are filled by his warm body, he only holds him closer, holds him as Tubbo shakes through tears he won’t let fall. Tough kid, always been such a tough kid. Phil nods his head in greeting to the others in the field above Tubbo’s head. Techno doesn’t move from his place beside him, laying his own hand on top of Tubbo’s mess of hair. 

Tubbo sniffles. Phil holds on a little tighter. Even when Tubbo unpeels himself from his chest he stays close, clinging to his or Techno’s arm, seeming incapable of staying upright by himself. One of his horns digs into the meat of Phil’s shoulder as he talks to the others, Phil doesn’t really mind. 

“So what can be done?” He asks, Sam’s eyes shift, looking at the grass and his feet. 

“We’ve already tried everything,” Sam replied, voice tinged with desperation and exhaustion. “Even the most enchanted, powerful, pickaxes won’t be enough to get him out, even if they did work we risk triggering another lockdown.”

“Can’t you work around the protocol?” Techno bites out moving closer, Phil putting out a hand to stop him. Techno huffs, Phil’s hand shakes. 

“Is there truly no other way?” He knows the answer. Behind him Pandora’s Box seems to sneer at him. Huge and dark and  _ holding his son. _

“I’m trying to hack around the controls, manually reset everything,” Sam says, Phil notices the red around his eyes, how his shoulders shake. “It’s our best bet right now.” 

Phil can only nod. Feeling, not for the first time, truly powerless. 

“Is he okay?” voice quiet, taken by the breeze.

Sam looks at the prison, frame heavy with grief. “The last time I checked the camera he was sleeping. He’s keeping his distance from  _ him.” _

Phil nods, Tubbo grips his wrist harder, Techno says nothing. 

“We’ll get him out guys, he’ll be okay,” a hopeful voice he recognizes as Quackity pipes up and Phil manages a smile in his direction, where he stands flanked by Sapnap and Karl. The other two staring holes into the prison. 

He notices a figure standing by the small riverbed nearby. His lungs feel heavy. Phil turns to Techno, slightly shoving Tubbo toward him who latches onto him immediately. 

“Both of you go rest, I'll stay here for a bit. I'll let you know if anything.” Techno opens his mouth to protest, and really he can’t blame him, he can’t help if he isn’t  _ there. _ But Phil shakes his head, looking at the dark circles on Techno and Tubbo’s faces, the gaunt way their cheeks sink in. “Go, it’ll be okay.” 

Techno gives him a sharp nod, Phil knows he’ll be angry about it later. He watches the two walk away, before silently approaching the riverbank. 

There’s a sliver of moonlight, a Cheshire smile in the dark sky, it makes the tears on her cheeks twinkle, paints her skin pale, highlights the red on her nose and eyes.

“Puffy,” he breathes out. She turns to look at him, mouth tight and arms held against her chest. Her eyes widened and filled with fresh tears, mouth opening in a gasp that  _ sounded _ painful. 

“Oh Phil,” she whispers, a broken stuttered breath. He opens his arms to her as she collapses in them, hiccuping and sobbing and apologizing through it all. There’s water soaking through his knees where they lay, still he holds her, she holds him back. 

He watched the sun rise behind the prison. Pressing golden rays against dark stone. It feels no lighter. 

-

So, Techno cleans. Tubbo stays in Tommy’s bed, he doesn't sleep, none of them really do. Phil walks the cluttered halls of Tommy’s house, tracing the countless picture frames and knick knacks he shelved. 

It reminds him of Tommy’s childhood room in his house, it's been empty of his presence for a few years now. It isn't the same emptiness that surrounds them. He never felt like something was missing from his home, unlike now. Tommy’s absence feels like a jagged cut in the air, displacing it, disturbing it, drawing attention to the fact he's not  _ there.  _

When they aren't at the house they are in the field. Standing and waiting, rarely ever talking, breaking just to eat. Bated breath and sore feet. The sun isn’t kind to them, beating down, bright and harsh. It makes Tubbo's face break out into freckles, it makes Phil smile, a small thing.

Tommy always burned first, no matter the amount of sunscreen and shade he clung too, his skin would end up inflamed and angry for days, only to die down into freckles that Phil had always adored. 

Others join them in their makeshift camp out outside the prison. Often bringing food, blankets for the night, a change of clothes, sometimes merely just company. 

Phil is grateful for the moments Ranboo joins them, it’s a few hours of the day Tubbo seems to come to life. They talk, they sit, they watch the prison, with Techno watching them. 

The moments Sam isn't tirelessly working to switch off the lockdown, he’s giving them updates on Tommy’s condition.

“He’s been sitting in the corner, he seems okay.” He had said, and the sigh of relief that followed was brief but there.  _ He was okay _ .

For now.

On the fourth night they return to the house for more hours of unrest, hours of waiting and hours of hoping that Tommy bursts through the doors, unscathed and free. 

Phil notices it as soon as he steps foot in Tommy’s house. Holding up a bleary eyed Tubbo as they pass through the doorway.

Blue handprints. 

Across door knobs, streaked across the windows, tapping along the wall.

“Wilbur,” he calls out softly, waiting for the ghost to show. He hears Techno chuckle a bit behind him, looking at all the splotches of blue in the house.

He appears slowly, hazy. Not as clear or as bright as the ghost first used to be. He’d been remembering more lately, no longer as happy go lucky, no longer as naive and sweet. He wore his coat now, slightly torn and faded. 

“Hi guys,” the apparition says, haunted and kind. He wears a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, like all of them nowadays. 

“Glad to see you've joined us,” Techno replies, settling in on the couch, wrapping a blue stained blanket around Tubbo’s shoulders, who waves a sleepy hand at Wilbur in greeting. 

“He’s still not out?” Wilbur asks, and Phil sighs, sitting at one of the dining chairs, shaking his head. He was so tired. 

“Do you see him anywhere?” Techno snarks and Tubbo puffs out a sharp laugh. It’s empty of humor, just like his eyes. 

Wilbur says nothing, simply floats on. 

“I tried going inside,” Wilbur starts, gaining everyone’s attention. “It didn’t work.” 

Techno rises, Phil braces himself, he hears Tubbo sniffle.

“What the hell do you mean it didn’t work? Isn't that your whole thing, you’re a ghost,” Techno says, more gruff than before. Wilbur only looks on.

“I mean it didn’t work, there’s some sort of barrier,” he says after searching for the word. “I’m not allowed in just like the rest of you.” The words are frustrated and solemn, Phil watches Techno’s chest rise and fall with disappointment. 

“It truly is Pandora’s Box then,” is all Phil says, before standing to usher Tubbo to Tommy’s room. He tucks him in, let’s his fingers linger on the familiar comforter, remembering when he would do this to Tommy. 

“Try and sleep,” he whispers. Tubbo shakes his head, messed hair falling around his face. “Just try, maybe you’ll wake up to him,” He tries to sound convincing, it doesn’t work even to his own ears. But Tubbo gives him a smile, strained, but a smile. 

He walks back out to his sons, watches the way the light flickers  _ through _ Wilbur’s ghostly form, watches as the years weigh on Techno’s shoulders. They both grew up so fast. Too fast.

“Sam said he is sleeping now, he’s okay,” he offers, sitting on the couch, turning to face the open window. Techno sits next to him, Phil says nothing when he leans against him with a heavy exhale. “We’ll get him back, it’s only a matter of time.” 

Techno nods against his shoulder, Phil undoes the ponytail he’s been wearing. Wilbur presses his hand against a photo of the three of them. Tommy, young, barely being held between his two older brothers. They’re all smiling, Phil can’t remember what the occasion was. 

-

It’s his birthday. He doesn’t remember until Techno mentions it, off hand and slightly bored. Phil doesn’t blame him, there’s much more important things happening. 

“It’s your birthday?!” Tubbo exclaimed, as energetic as the lethargic boy could be. Phil nodded, chuckling at the shocked  _ “wow”  _ he got in return. “So how old are you now? Are you gonna get a cake?” 

Phil shakes his head, tapping his palm against the table. It was early morning, no one had slept, they were going to the prison soon.

“Not this year it seems,” He answers back, rising to leave. Pointedly avoiding the question on his age. “Let’s get going.” 

The walk is brisk, the morning chill still hangs in the air. Techno gives Tubbo his jacket, it nearly swallows him, Techno laughs heartily about it. They make a slight detour, where they stand outside Ranboo’s house and listen to Tubbo tug him out of bed. 

“Good morning Ranboo,” Phil offers the groggy hybrid. Ranboo yawns and smiles in return while Tubbo practically hangs off his arm. 

“It’s Phil’s birthday today!” Tubbo announces, as if spreading the good news will surely turn the day for the better. Phil admired his enthusiasm. Ranboo duo colored eyes widen, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“I-is it? I’m so sorry Mr. Phil I didn’t get a gift!” Ranboo rambles and Phil can’t help a laugh. He shakes his head, patting a hand down Ranboo’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay kid, I only just remembered today myself,” he says, Ranboo visibly deflated with relief, Techno cracks up behind him. The sun starts to break through the clouds, it’s the first morning in five days that he feels like he can breathe slightly more.

They continue their walk towards the prison, talking amongst themselves, waving to the few people who are awake. Phil stares at Puffy’s door as they pass. The lights are off. 

The field is empty, so early in the morning. Save for one figure. Phil sees him amongst the tall grass, brooding and  _ sad. _ He squints against dancing sun rays, until they finally come into view. Not for the first time, his blood freezes in his veins. 

“Sam?” he calls out. He watches Sam jolt with shock, turning to face him.  _ He’d been crying. _ Phil notices along with the red stain on his shirt. He doesn’t run, he can’t. He walks slower, as if stalking wounded prey, as if to prevent what was about to come, if he waited long enough the outcome would change. 

A blur of pink and green run past him however, shouting and panicked. Tubbo and Techno ran, he wanted to yell at them to stop, to  _ not _ , to stay away. He could barely find the words, staring into Sam’s  _ grieving  _ eyes and already knowing the worst. 

_ Please just hold on. _

_ Please be okay. _

_ Just a little longer. _

It was the mantra that had been keeping him sane since the moment they found out Tommy was stuck in there. It circled in his head now, a plea, begging and praying for it to be true.

“What’s happened Sam?” the question wobbles past his teeth, next to him Tubbo takes a shuddering breath.  _ What happened to my boy?  _ He thinks.

Sam seems to shatter, head held in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. There’s blood on his knuckles, Phil can’t breathe. 

“What. Happened,” Techno grinds out, distantly, he knows his hand is on his sword, Phil has no energy to stop him. 

“I,” Sam starts, breaking into a near cry before breathing himself back together. “I didn’t get there in time.”

Behind him there’s a gasp. He registers small fingers trembling against his sleeve, Techno has stopped moving. 

“No.” He hears Techno say, a whisper, his head shakes, hair falling out of its braids. “You’re lying.” 

Sam looks at them through his hands, chest heaving, eyes drowning in a sorrow that Phil can feel in his throat. 

“I’m so sorry,” Sam says. “I’m so so sorry.” His apology is cut short by a rough hand at his collar, Techno manhandling him to stand, all monstrous strength and rage. 

“You’re lying!” It’s a shout, stained with pain, Phil winces as he listens to his son cry. “Please, tell me you’re lying.” 

Sam only sobs, shakes and shakes. Phil slowly puts his hand on Techno’s signaling him to let the man go. His limbs feel so far from him, as if he’s floating outside his body, as if his body was never even truly his own. He feels faraway when Sam falls to his feet, when Tubbo’s nails claw into the meat of his palm, when Techno falls to his knees next to him.

“My boy?” He whispers,  _ surely not  _ he thinks.  _ Not my darling boy.  _

Sam holds his head in his hands, bruised and swelling with emotion. 

Pain seems to erupt all at once, coming back into his body as burning tears fall down his face, his lungs are on fire, there’s bile rising in his throat. He feels Tubbo let go of his hand, hears him scream Tommy’s name as he runs into the prison entrance, scratching at stone walls to be let in. 

Techno is silent beneath him. The grass sways in the breeze. His damaged wings burn with phantom pains on his back, the memory of warm blood on his sword and hands swarm him, the light leaving brown eyes, his steps weigh a million pounds as he walks up the steps to Tubbo. 

“Let me in! I need to see him!” Tubbo claws and claws, his fingertips scarlet and raw. He holds them to his  chest, watching his blood seep through his clothes as Tubbo beats his small hands against him. “Please! Please it can’t be true! I need to see him, we promised we’d get him!” Tubbo cries and Phil holds him to his chest as he does. Tubbo sobs, Phil cries into his hair, small horns poking his arms, he feels Tubbo twist his fingers into the material at his back. 

_ “Why Phil? Why him?”  _ Tubbo sniffles and Phil can’t answer him. He looks out into the field, eyes blurry with tears, Wilbur stands a few feet behind Techno, shell shocked and fading. 

_ My children,  _ he thinks. Heart wrenching with unimaginable anguish.  _ I have failed you. _

The field twinkles with the remnants of morning dew and shed tears. The sun rises fully, bathing them in unavoidable light. Phil stares at it until it doesn’t burn.

_ How many mornings does this make for us, old friend?  _ He asks its rays. He doesn’t know. He wishes it would’ve been one less. 

-

The prison is just as grim inside as it is outside. Stricken with shadows of artificial light, muffling each and every little noise from the outside. It was suffocating. It was awful.

_ He died in these walls, _ was all that played in his head as he followed Sam’s footsteps in front of him. His body still felt heavy, both his hands weighed down by two bodies that felt so cold for being alive. 

Techno on his left. Tubbo on his right. Both barely standing, grief dripping from their skin, walking along to see, his body. 

Sam said he had carried him out of the cell. That he had managed.

“Take me to him,” he had said. Sam visibly shook, seeming to fight the urge to refuse him completely. 

“We aren’t asking you  _ warden, _ ” Techno’s voice was rough with bleeding rage. Sam nodded his head once, standing on uneven steps as he walked them in.

“I have to warn you,” Sam said, as they stopped in front of a dark door. Phil hadn’t even noticed they had arrived completely. Mind too full to care about all the twists and turns inside the prison. “It… it isn’t good.” 

Phil wants to laugh. No, it isn’t good, his youngest son is  _ dead.  _ Nothing is  _ good _ anymore. 

“Dream he,” Sam pauses at the way Tubbo tenses at the name, seeming to give space in short apology. “The way he-“ 

“Just let us through Sam,” Phil says, he doesn’t need the details, not right now, he just needs to see his son. Sam exhales with a slow nod, pushes his hand against a brick and with a heavy scrape, the door slides open. 

Grief comes in waves. Phil is no stranger to it, having so many years under his belt, one gets used to mortality around them, the beginning and ending of things. Next to him Tubbo shatters, barely making it two steps into the room before blindly scrambling into Sam’s body behind him, stained fingers clawing at his shirt as he wailed.

The entire time he had hoped Sam had been lying. Corpses don’t lie however. 

“No no no no no, please no Sam, that can't be real! Please it’s not him!” It was a piercing shriek in the silent room, Tubbo sobbed and Sam held him apologizing and apologizing. 

Techno’s breath stutters, he moves slowly, quietly, the way he used to tiptoe around his room trying not to wake Tommy. Phil’s heart nearly collapses at the memory, knowing Tommy won’t be waking up this time. 

“Oh  _ god,” _ Techno whispers as he takes in the body, it’s harsh, heartbroken. Techno kneels, unable to stand on his two feet, his hair is mussed and eyes stinging with fresh tears. Phil placed a hand on top of his head, as he took in the sight of his baby boy. 

_ Beaten.  _ There were still fingerprints at the base of his neck, there were still blooming bruises on the apples of his cheeks, wrists red where they had been gripped. There was a sick greenish tinge to his skin, fading to purple around his eyes. His eyes that were  _ open. _ Unseeing and dull. 

_ His eyes remind me of cornflowers, of a chilly cloudless day in winter, of shimmering waves, the color of pure unadulterated hope. Tommy’s eyes held the power to do anything, he had thought once as he cradled the boy. Watching baby blue eyes dip behind heavy eyelids fighting sleep.  _

Phil reaches a trembling hand to the meat of Tommy’s cheek, just starting to sink in the hollow planes beneath his skin. He’s cold beneath his fingers, as if Phil was touching a piece of furniture in the room, devoid of any life, of any warmth at all.

_ He had always run so hot. Blistering with warmth, stinking of the sunshine he bathed himself in on afternoons out with his brothers, warmed by all the adoring hands constantly on him, Phil remembers days his warmth would reach its peak in fevers that would last hours, where he watched him sweat and shake and Phil soothed him through it. His Tommy was always so warm.  _

There are tears in his shirt rips where it had been grabbed at with brutal uncaring force. Phil lets his hand run gingerly through dusty blonde locks, lacking all its shine.

_ In direct sunlight it was as if Tommy had spun gold for hair. Curling and bouncing and twinkling brilliantly no matter the hour. He had pressed countless kisses to the crown of his head, had watched his brothers try and style it, had brushed it out of his eyes when it had grown too long, had run his fingers through it as he slept. _

Tommy is cold beneath him. 

“My Tommy,” it’s a gasp, a wheeze, a punch to the gut expelling air as his legs give out from beneath him, as he clutches to his son's body and weeps. 

His boy is gone. He sobs into his chest, loud and raw. There are small fingers on his wings, a warm head leaning against his hip where it presses into the table. They cry together.

They feel no lighter for it. There is no relief. Just an unending ache. He watches blearily as Techno covers Tommy’s eyes with his hand, watches the way he flinches as he touches the freezing skin, watches as he closes Tommy’s eyes. He almost looks like he’s sleeping. Like at any moment his eyes will open back up, and he’ll complain about being woken up. Phil leans into the false comfort. Let it settle in his bones. 

_ This is no time for rest Tommy,  _ he wants to say.  _ There was still so much you wanted to do. _ So much he could’ve done. 

They sit there and mourn. The friend, the brother, the son, the  _ love  _ they’ve lost. For his son was love, it was threaded into the seams of his skin, into the slope of his smile, rich in his laughs. 

His son was gone, all his love removed from this universe. 

The world is duller for it, Phil thinks. 

-

The lava falls steadily in front of them, the heat of it drying the moisture left on their face. Techno reaches a tentative hand toward the fiery waterfall, Phil watches his scarred fingers dance over licking flames.

“Are you sure about this?” Sam asks from behind them, hand on a lever that’s already been pulled. Phil glances back at the bruises on his knuckles and nods.

“Are you sure? We’re about to go kill him. Aren’t you all about justice or whatever?” Techno chimes in, voice tired but Phil appreciates the attempt at humor. Sam gives a slight scoff.

“I thought justice was putting him behind all this,” he says. “There was no justice here.”

Phil can only agree with him.

They had walked Tubbo out to the field again, after removing him from Tommy. It had been painful, Tubbo had kicked and screamed. From the moment they’d met they had never been separated, at least never this permanently. He couldn’t imagine one without the other, now it was simply a fact. Tubbo was alone. 

They had left him in Jack’s hands, who stared slack jawed next to Ranboo as they told him the news. 

“You can’t be serious?” he guffawed and Techno heaved a great sigh. Jack blinked. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” Phil nodded, he didn’t really know what to say to that. 

Tubbo gently bumped his head against Ranboo’s torso, a sad thump. Ranboo stood shell shocked until Techno laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Take him home. We will meet you both there,” Techno instructed, knowing Ranboo needed some modicum of structure in times like these. Ranboo could only nod, slowly tugging at Tubbo’s arm. 

They had watched the two teens leave before walking back into the desolate walls of the prison. 

Now they stared at clearing lava, stepped onto a moving panel, approached a single cell.

The lava flows back evenly behind them this time. It’s silent for a few seconds, Phil stares at the streaks of blood in the corner only pulled away by a sickeningly familiar cackle. 

“You’re here earlier than I thought, such a  _ doting  _ family,” Dream smiles, sharp toothed and dangerous. It makes Phil’s stomach turn. There’s a sudden blur at the corner of his eyes, followed by a growl and the sound of flesh striking flesh.

“You fucking bastard!” it’s a snarl, spitting and pained. He watches Techno’s fist collide with Dream’s cheek, hears a deafening crack at the impact, sees red mar his freckled cheeks. Dream only laughs, puts his hands up briefly to hold on, grinning and grinning. In a flurry of punches he’s sure Techno has knocked loose a tooth and cracked a rib. It doesn’t yet feel like enough, Dream is still smiling. 

“What’s so funny?” Techno asks, he can’t help it, Dream seems to find this hilarious and nearly doubles over, Phil takes great pleasure in the sharp gasp the action pulls from him. 

“You can’t kill me,” Dream rasps out, ever so sure of himself, as if he was claiming a well known fact. Techno strikes him across the face again, Dream smiles, bloody and twisted and  _ wrong.  _ “You can’t kill me, you  _ need _ me.” 

Techno huffs, a sardonic laugh, before kicking Dream to the ground, pressing his boot against his ribs. “Do enlighten us on why we would ever  _ need _ you?” Though Techno asks, he gives him no space to answer, kicking him in quick succession until he coughs up blood. 

Dream is still smiling.

“Oh haven't you realized?” he wheezes, it seems to suck all the air out of the already small room. “ _ Really _ ? I pegged you to be smarter than that. But then again if you were truly smart you had cooperated with me, maybe then Tommy would still be alive.” Techno presses a knee against his throat, Dream gives a withering giggle. “I’m the only one who could bring him back! To bring anyone back! You  _ need  _ me Phil!” 

It’s the first time Dream actually acknowledges him, spitting his name out with a damaging sense of pride. As if he’d pressed on a weak spot, as if Phil would bend to his will. Phil only looked on, into sea green eyes, that blazed with a power he truly believed he had over them. 

“Can you really?” Phil asks, playing into his game, watching his already wide smile nearly split apart his cheeks. 

“Of course. Death doesn’t have a hold on me like it does  _ you,”  _ he sneers, boastful despite the bruises accumulating across his skin. “I’m practically God, Phil!” It’s near violent, the laugh he breaks into, Phil is no lesser man but he can’t deny the way it makes his skin crawl listening to it. Techno cuts it short with a swift pull to his hair, straining his neck back and bent. 

“Stop fucking around,” he grits out. Dream wheezes, strained labored breaths. 

“Would I lie to you?” Dream sing songs, even having the nerve to bat his blood clumped lashes at him. 

“I’ll have you  _ praying _ to one by the time we’re done,” Techno accentuates his words with his fists. Phil watches blood cloud Dreams shirt. He thinks about his son dying in this cell. 

“You know,” Dream spits, Phil can’t see the red on the black stone but he knows it there, “He called for you.” Techno freezes, fist in the air, Phil doesn’t look at him when he turns to face him, staring down at Dream. “Oh you didn’t know? Well how could you?” He tuts, fake pity dripping from his voice. “He did, cried and screamed, begged for you to come get him. His  _ sweet _ father and brother. But you never came.” 

“Shut up,” Techno breathes, holding Dream's jaw in his hands and squeezing. 

“You’ll have to kill me first, and I already told you. You  _ can’t,”  _ His eyes twinkle with amusement and Phil can’t take much more. He puts a hand on Techno’s shoulder, motioning him to stand, Techno holds on a second longer before letting Dreams head crash back into the stone. Dream laughs, blood spills from his mouth, staining his teeth and tongue. 

There’s a sharp tear as Techno rips at his cape, a small strip of fabric to wrap around his blistered knuckles. Phil breathes through it, looking down at Dream’s smiling face before settling his foot right on his chest, leaning his weight on it as he looms over him. Dream gasps and struggles, Phil smiles a bit. 

“Even if you could bring them back. I don’t want you too,” He starts, revels in the way Dreams eyes drop for a second to reveal shock. A crack in the mask. “I don’t  _ need _ you too.” He watched Dream recover, a twisted smirk pulling at his broken lips.

“Here I thought you loved him. If not Tommy at least Wilbur, what kind of father are you?” Dream pushes himself up slightly, fighting against injuries to face Phil. “Besides the kind who's always too late.”

Phil lets his heel dig into his sternum, Dream gives a soft whine. 

“You’re a child Dream,” he says, biting and cold, he smiles at the way Dream angers at being called that. “Anything but  _ Godly. _ I’ve seen false gods like you fall, face endings much crueler than anything they could’ve ever imagined, I've seen cities crumble, watched as their gods abandoned them, watched as  _ they _ abandoned their gods. You are nothing, Dream, you will return to nothing.”

Slowly he watches Dreams face fall. He isn’t smiling anymore, Techno chuckles behind him. 

“You,” he starts, gasping and angry, fury present in his emerald eyes. “You  _ need  _ me.” He’s no longer laughing. Phil presses down a bit more. 

“The thing is I don’t. No one does, no one Dream,” he says, tone mockingly sweet. “No one needs you at all but you, oh  _ you,  _ need everyone don’t you? To feel grand, to feel powerful, to play at  _ God.” _ He stands then fully, breathes in the pained wheezes Dream gives him, securs the tie of Techno’s wrapped knuckles while Dream gasped out curses beneath him. Techno squeezes his shaking hands slightly before turning towards Dream again. 

“I have enough life for both of my sons, more than enough time to see them again,” Slowly the lava drains, a platform rises, Techno helps him step onto it. He faces Dream a final time. 

“You will rot in here, like all forgotten Gods do.”

He doesn’t watch as the platform gets further away. As the lava fills back up behind them. He walks out of Pandora’s Box, where his hope had come to die. They walk back in silence. There are no stars that night, Phil is glad for them, knowing he wouldn’t be able to look at them. 

-

No one sleeps, Tubbo clings to Tommy’s sheets with newfounded ferver. Ranboo burns his fingers as he wipes their tears away. Phil dresses Techno’s hand properly, Techno stares at the pictures on the wall. Phil looks outside the window, towards the field, where a dozen lanterns sway, held in mourning hands, if he squints he can make out familiar faces.  _ You were loved,  _ he thinks.  _ I hope you know that Tom.  _

The world is quiet around them. It had never been this quiet before.

-

_ The moonlight drenches a bench in its pale rays, as if carving out its own space for it in the night. A figure sits, waiting, for what? He doesn’t know. His name is lost to him, along with glimpses of who he is. Was? He stares at the moon, he remembers always enjoying stargazing. Distantly, he remembers the name of the constellations, the short soft teachings of how to read the stars. There are no stars tonight.  _

_ A hazy figure appears next to him, he doesn’t know why, but he isn't scared. He doesn’t feel scared anymore. So he smiles, wide and welcoming, waving a hand back and forth as his legs swing. The man smiles back, a bit sadder but it reaches his eyes.  _

_ “Hi there!” He greets.  _

_ “Hi Tommy,” the man says back. Slowly, almost tenderly, it all comes back. Slightly distorted with missing pieces but he’d recognize his big brother anywhere, even in death. He is dead isn't he? He raises a ghostly pale hand to Wilbur’s cheek, he isn’t warm, but he’s there, he’s real. Wilbur sighs into it.  _

_ Tommy leaves behind fingerprint splotches of blue. Blazing neon in the night, lightning like his eyes.  _

_ “Wilbur,” he calls for no particular reason only to feel his name in his mouth. He smiles at him.  _

_ “Hello little brother, you’re early,” too early. Goes unsaid. You're not supposed to be here, hangs in the air. Tommy tucks his head into the crook of Wilburs shoulder, like he used to when he was younger, he remembers that at least.  _

_ “I missed you.” _

_ “I know.” _

_ The moon dips behind scattered clouds, neither of them feel the chill of the night.  _

_ “Is it over now?” Tommy asks.  _

_ Wilbur lays his head on top of him, staring at the dimly lit field, at the lights on at Tommy’s house, at everything built around him.  _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “Was I any good?” Tommy asks. _

_ For the first time since he’s died he feels his chest constrict around air that isn’t in there. It prickles and heats and twists and he wants to cry. Ghosts don’t cry.  _

_ “You were everything Tommy.”  _

_ The universe melded around him, as it always would.  _

_ For he was everything  _

_ And everything was him. _

**Author's Note:**

> rrrrepost cause ao3 hates me :(.   
> (also idk if it’s obv enough but puffy is dreams mom in this, i love that hc so much)  
> Anyways hope ya enjoyed, still crying over Tommy. This god damn smp. Take care!  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Zoldyke_)


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